The Nose Knows
by Iceworm
Summary: Wolves are curious by nature.  When Derek is presented with a challenge he uses his most trusted sense to try to discover the answer.


The Nose Knows

"Damn!" The sound of someone pounding on the front door echoed up the stairwell. Stiles slowly backed out from beneath his desk rubbing the back of his head. He'd been looking for his other shoe. The one he'd kicked off when he'd gotten home from school but hadn't found right away when the lights went out. Finding it was of critical importance. No lights meant a trip to the fusebox in the basement. The basement, with its cold cement and creepy, crawlies on the floor, was not a place he went without shoes.

Stiles finished pulling on the elusive shoe and picked up his cellphone. Its feeble light provided the only illumination in his room. The pounding started again downstairs. Stiles frowned as the glass in his window rattled from the force of the blows. He winced as he ran his hand over his head but came to a decision. Grabbing his lacrosse stick, he stepped out into the hallway. His cellphone screen and moonlight coming through the window at the top of the stairs gave him enough light to make his way down to the first floor.

The entryway at the bottom of the stairs was dark. Only his cellphone provided any light. The curtains were drawn across the windows in the living room to his right and no light came in through the narrow windows that flanked the door. As he hesitated at the foot of the stairs, the pounding started for the third time.

"You're making a big mistake, whoever you are." Stiles shouted. "This is the sheriff's house. If you don't get off my porch I'm going to call him and you'll be in big trouble." Stiles smacked his forehead and muttered to himself in disgust. "Idiot, you tell crazy person on porch you're all alone and sound like a petulant six-year-old to boot. Pathetic." He strained to hear if his threat had had any effect. "I'm not hearing movement so I'm dialing 911 now."

A soft growl sounded from the porch followed by Derek's angry voice. "Stiles, hang up the phone, you asshole, and let me in!"

"Such pretty language. With an attitude like that how can I refuse?" Stiles crossed to the door and opened it but kept the night chain latched. "Easy! What do you want Derek? It's…" He had to check his cellphone to see what time it was. "Almost midnight. I've got school tomorrow and it is totally creepy having you show up like this."

"What happened to your lights?" Was Derek's reply. "Your house is the only one on the block without lights."

"We blew a fuse. It's an old house that belongs to a frequently absent, not particularly handy owner and his totally useless son."

"Got that right." Derek agreed under his breath.

"Heard that, shutting door now." Stiles began to close the door but Derek's hand reached through the opening and held it open against his best effort to shut it.

"Let me in or I'll rip the chain out of the door and maybe your arm off for good measure. How will you explain that to your dad, Stiles? So be a good little asshole and let me in."

Stiles scowled like someone biting into a lemon but unlatched the chain. He opened the door but only wide enough for him to step out onto the porch. "Again, Derek, what's with the unwelcome visit at the unseemly hour?"

"You can't stop me from coming in, kid. I don't need your permission." When Stiles showed no sign of relenting, Derek tried a less threatening approach. "I'm trying to help."

His face a mixture of disbelief and confusion, Stiles slowly opened the door for the werewolf to enter.

"Okay, help?" He asked as Derek slipped past him. The door closed with a heavy click. "It's a blown fuse! I'm sixteen. Even I can change a blown fuse without someone holding my hand." Stiles paused and stared a Derek. "What are you doing?"

Derek was turning his head slowly from side to side. By the light of his cellphone Stiles could see Derek's nostrils flare.

"Is there anyone else in the house besides you?"

"I wish." Stiles said with a sigh. "Why?"

Derek ignored this question like the others Stiles had asked. "I can smell you, of course, and your dad."

As he said this an expression flickered across Derek's usually impassive face and was gone. "Incidentally, Stiles, if you have ever fantasized about being in the wrong family you are definitely your father's son." Derek tapped his nose.

"Good! You've answered a question I've never asked. Thanks. Now leave, damn it!"

"Scott's scent is everywhere too. How long have you known him?" Derek walked into the living room.

"Since kindergarten." Stiles followed Derek. His cellphone in one hand and the lacrosse stick he'd brought with him in the other.

Derek raised an eyebrow. "What? Oh…" Stiles looked down at the lacrosse stick in his hand. "You know…defense." He swung the stick clumsily one-handed as a demonstration and dropped his cellphone. With a smirk Derek snatched it out of the air before it hit the floor and returned it to him.

"That's the best you could do if the Alpha was in the house?" He asked sarcastically.

"The Alpha? Who said anything about the Alpha? I came down expecting to deal with a loony on my porch and a burned out fuse in the basement. I got it half right. Not the Alpha! Why should I worry that he's going to show up here?" Stiles looked around his living room uneasily.

"The Alpha wants you dead. He wants Scott to kill you but he'll do it himself if he must. He wants Scott isolated, totally alone." Derek's face was grim. "Without the support of his pack," He growled at the blank expression on his listener's face. "His friends, idiot. Without them Scott will turn to the Alpha."

Stiles stared wide-eyed at Derek. "This is all about protecting me?" He scoffed. "I didn't know you cared." He made shooing motions at Derek. "But, no evil Alpha means no reason for you to be here, right?" He took Derek's arm and tried to move him toward the door. His effort was stymied by his total inability to budge Derek. He might have been trying to move a tree. The expression on Derek's face persuaded Stiles to desist. He let go of him.

Stiles tried a different approach. "What do I tell my Dad if he comes home and you're still here?"

"How often does your father get home before midnight?" Asked Derek.

"Lots." Stiles answered vaguely staring up at the ceiling.

"He hasn't been home before midnight for the last ten days, Stiles." Derek stated flatly. "I'm not going to worry about him changing his pattern tonight."

Stiles's eyes widened. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since the Alpha took an interest in you. But, that doesn't mean that I care about you."

Derek turned and walked quickly and confidently across the darkened living room, through the dining room that adjoined it, and on into the kitchen beyond. He avoided effortlessly the various obstacles that lay in the path of the unwary in a house lived in by only men. Stiles trailed along behind him. Even with the light from his cellphone to help him, he moved more cautiously through his own home than did this stranger. Despite the care he took he still managed to slip on a magazine lying on the floor and bang his hip into the edge of the dining table. Stiles dropped the lacrosse stick and left it lying on the floor as he limped after Derek.

Derek stopped in the center of the kitchen and waited for Stiles to catch up. "You mean something to Scott. You're part of his pack." He scanned the walls of the room. "A weird, dysfunctional pack but it's his. I'll try to help him hang on to that because it's hard to be all alone."

"So where's the fuse box, Stiles? Let's get the lights on."

"In the basement. Through that door," He pointed to the one beside the refrigerator.

Derek opened the door and went down the stairs without any hesitation. Stiles trailed behind him holding up the cellphone to light his way.

"Right or left?" Asked Derek as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Right and extra fuses are on the shelf under it."

The fusebox's door was open by the time Stiles joined him. Stiles held his cellphone above Derek's shoulder trying to provide light for him. "Can you see which fuse burned out? "

Derek gave the cellphone a contemptuous glance and unscrewed the first fuse, held it up and then returned it to the box. He went on to the next fuse and repeated the process. The third fuse he passed back to Stiles rather than returning it to the fusebox.

"This is the one." He said reaching for the box of new fuses.

"Yeah?" Stiles held his cellphone up close to the fuse trying to see the small metal strip inside the glass top of the fuse. "It looks okay to me. How do you know it's bad?"

"I can smell the burned metal." Derek screwed in the new fuse and was rewarded by the sound of the compressor in the freezer across the room coming on.

"Thanks, I guess." Stiles offered reluctantly. He walked to the center of the room and pulled the chain of the ceiling light flooding the basement with light. Derek was already halfway up the stairs and only grunted at this halfhearted expression of thanks.

Stiles caught up with him in the living room. "I'll just open the door for you." He said. He had it open but Derek turned left and stood staring up the stairs leading to the second floor.

"Hey, what's up?" Stiles hastily closed the front door and reached for Derek's arm but his hand stopped before touching him. Instead he asked, "Why are you going upstairs? There's nothing upstairs except bedrooms." He made a sweeping gesture. "I have your nose's guarantee that the house is officially clear of blood thirsty Alphas, the lights are on, and all is right with the world. There's no reason…"

Derek cut him off. "Curiousity."

"You know how well that turned out for the cat." Stiles grumbled. He followed Derek up the stairs and stopped behind him in the hall outside his bedroom. "It's a little lived-in but at least it's not a condemned, burnt out shell." Stiles clapped a hand over his mouth and took a step back from Derek.

Derek's back stiffened but then he pushed open the door. Stepping inside he looked around the room. "You need to clean your room, Stilinski."

"Okay, Mom." Was the boy's sarcastic response to this unexpected piece of advice. Stiles moved to stand between Derek and his room. "I like my room the way it is. It's me. Go away. Get out of my house. " He tried to shoo him out but with no success.

Derek shrugged. "I'm giving you some friendly advice." He ignored the sputtering that came from Stiles and continued, "Scott hasn't mastered his abilities yet. You'll want to clean up this room before he does."

"For instance, there's a dirty sock and something moldy," The corner of his mouth twitched. "Maybe an old cheese sandwich, under your bed?" Derek kicked aside the duffel Stiles used for his lacrosse gear. His nose wrinkled. "You should have left your uniform and gym clothes downstairs in the laundry."

He then walked over to Stiles's bed and threw back the comforter. Derek studied the sheets before glancing over at Stiles. The boy watched him with a puzzled frown. "You been having some special dreams, kid? Who's been starring in your little wet dreams? "

A smile broke through Derek's usually stoic face as he watched the color spread up Stiles's neck and across his face. Stiles suddenly found the carpet worthy of special attention.

"In a few weeks, maybe a month, Scott will know how to decipher what his nose tells him. Changing your sheets and emptying your wastebasket would be a good idea before that happens." His smile broadened as he walked toward Stiles. The smile made Derek look younger but no less dangerous.

"You're out of your mind. I'm 16." Stiles protested. "An old guy like you probably doesn't remember how it was at my age. A guy needs some release. Scott does it." He added emphatically.

"Yeah, but there's a difference between knowing your friend does it and having your nose rubbed in it every time you enter his room." Stiles retreated as Derek closed the distance between them.

"This is so not cool." Stiles protested his voice rising. "Seriously infringing on my privacy and personal space here, dude." The first signs of panic appearing in his face, Stiles backed hurriedly away from Derek and collided with the wall.

His eyes darted around the room looking for an escape. "Are you going to rip out my throat?" He asked. He thrust out a hand as though this could hold off the danger closing in on him.

The wolf stopped a hand's breadth away from Stiles. The palm of the boy's hand pressed against his chest. "Shut up, Stiles." He growled. Looking down at the hand resting over his heart, Derek's smile faltered. He searched the face of the boy in front of him. His smile had been replaced by a serious, thoughtful expression.

Placing his hands on the wall bracketing Stiles's head, Derek slowly leaned in toward the boy, wolf fire flickering in his eyes. Stiles closed his eyes and turned his head away from the sight; but in doing so he exposed his neck to the wolf.

Derek bent low over the boy's neck. He wet his lips and then took a deep breath, held it, and then exhaled. The sudden flood of the wolf's hot breath on his neck sent goosebumps racing across the boy's skin and Stiles's hand grabbed a handful of Derek's t-shirt.

He could feel Stiles trembling through his hand. The boy tried to slide away from the hot breath that continued to bathe his neck but Derek stopped him easily. The wolf took another breath and exhaled but now Derek's breathing was as rapid and uneven as his prey.

Slowly Derek raised his head and pulled away from Stiles. He gently pried the boy's fingers apart releasing his shirt. Straightening he dropped his hands to his side, flexing his fingers as he did so. On the wall in front of him he could see two perfect sets of shallow indentations where his claws had extended while he bent over the boy.

Without the support of his hold on Derek's shirt Stiles slid slowly down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. He rested his arms on his knees and his head on his arms. The boy looked up and blinked. Derek had turned his back on him and was walking toward the door.

"What was that?" He asked angrily.

Derek stopped and turned back to the boy. "I wanted an answer to a question. Whenever I've been with you and Scott you've radiated lust and arousal. I wanted to know if any of that was directed at me."

Stiles blushed furiously. "You're delusional if you think fear is an aphrodisiac." He hesitated, took a breath and asked, "Well…?"

Derek met and held the boy's eyes. Cocking his head to one side he asked softly, "What do you think, Stilinski?"

Stiles broke eye contact with Derek and rested his forehead on his arms, hiding his face from the man.

Derek stood for a moment watching the boy. His nostrils flared as he took a last deep breath before turning on his heel and walking from the room.


End file.
